


Paris

by wasabiandi



Series: Yo y Mis Tres Novios [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12183102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasabiandi/pseuds/wasabiandi
Summary: France was known to love everyone, but they never understood why he loved Romano so much.





	Paris

Paris was breathtaking, Romano couldn't deny that. 

It was a warm presence that engulfed you. It's streets a busy hum of a sweet melody, of a city that never rests. It was a optimistic beat, a crescendo of dramatic flare, just alike France himself. 

When Romano had appeared on France's doorstep that evening, blue eyes widened under blonde lashes in a way that screamed excitement, but were so finely lined in small tracks of age. Every nation bared them, but whilst many country's held theirs in a way that overpowered their characteristics, France's warm, so fucking blue, iris' juxtaposed in a way that was attractive and spilled emotion. 

France was gorgeous. 

It's why Romano kept coming over. His own heart linked with this suffocating beauty, in ways that other countries couldn't understand. France was known to love everyone, but they never understood why he loved Romano so much. Why he spent hours dedicated to the elder Italy, whom many found unfavourable. When prompted over his choices, France would just laugh, ask if they really didn't recall the years spent on trying to take in the then infant-like child, but really all he could think of is how he couldn't love Romano. There was an excitement to his features, of a childish nature he was ripped away from, that shone through the growing cracks in his walls. The way Romano's eyes reflected the lights of the Eiffel Tower was a bliss no one else ever saw, because if they did maybe someone would learn to love Romano, in the way he was now. 

Hands on the railing of the weathered gold city balcony, bottom lip plump and nibbled between teeth so used to clenching to hold emotions and remarks. Back arched so his narrow hips met France's, eagerly taking in the heat and friction given to him. 

France would have to share Romano, and he didn't know if he could. 

"France I swear to god-" Romano bit out, legs shaking in pure bliss whilst France merely chuckled, his distracted gaze drawing back as he resumed the task at hand.

France ran a calloused hand up the quivering, slick tanned skin, heart pulsing at the small mewls that left the younger males lips. Reangling his hips, France took him in further, deeper, in the traditionally slow and passionate way that screamed utter adoration. 

Romano wasn't a fool to ignore the ministrations. He bucked back, then forward again, riding out against the cock sliding in him with far too much ease. The air felt too sticky, far too dense for the cold night he had arrived on. The tightening and pressure in his abdomen was one of many discomforts growing that in many ways were a pleasure. 

France's beard pressed against his neck was one discomfort to his sensitive body, but the loving kisses the wine stained lips pressed were enough to sedate the sexual perfectionist Romano was. 

"Romano, mon petit, you're absolutely gorgeous." 

Romano whined, throwing his head back. 

"You feel amazing" 

"France-"

"You are amazing." 

"Oh fuck-" With a halted shiver, Romano came, the only support given to him being the banister and strong hands gripping at his hips. The pale fingers rubbed circles as his body convulsed in the purely overwhelming orgasm, dragged on by the soaring heat spreading within him. 

Any other day, Romano would complain about how long it'd take to clean himself out. 

But today, he couldn't. 

Not when France had leant over him, pressing kisses to his cheek, and whispered "je t'aime". 

Francis withdrew carefully, giving Romano's hip a final squeeze before collecting the dressing gown thrown across the chair during the earlier hours of their tryst. The red silk was a luxury France was accustomed too, but having Romano respond to his small, blissed confession. 

"Do you mean that?"

France smiled, eyes downcast but bright, "Of course I do, Romano. Have you known me to lie?" 

Romano snorted, "plenty of times."

"Ah, but I assure you... tonight it was no lie." 

Green pearlescent eyes traced up France, back to the skyline that fashioned itself so well outside France's city apartment. The small smile Romano tried to maintain couldn't be denied. 

"Next time..." Romano breathed out a held sigh, resting a tired head on France's broad chest. He fluttered under the sound of the heartbeat, and grinned. "...It'll be in Rome"

France grinned, as Romano pressed an all-telling kiss to the nape of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Been forever since I've posted here, and can I just say it's been wild since then.  
> Anyways, I'm trying to currently break away from my over-poetic tone to a more fast paste one, like normal authors use. My writing skills have declined dramatically, and I'm actually taking a university course next year to set me up before entering Uni with the end goal of a Masters in History!
> 
> This piece is a starting point in trying to transform my writing, so I hope you enjoy ;)


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